Come Undone
by Ruby Rosetta Red
Summary: Completely AU and a what if. What if once upon a time Bobby Goren had been deeply in love. Originally a companion piece to 'The Girl in the Photograph'. A long one shot and a little out of the box. Thoughts appreciated.


**A/N:** This has been on my laptop for a while. I wrote it in companion to 'The Girl in the Photograph' which is posted up here...somewhere. It's the back story of Bobby and Lola. It is _completely_ AU and a 'what if'. What if Bobby had once been deeply in love? Set mainly pre-MC til towards the end. There's also no dialogue. A long one shot. The characters of CI belong to Dick Wolf et al. Original characters are my own, as are all the errors, grammar and otherwise. Thoughts appreciated. Warning: It's very sad in places.

* * *

**Come Undone.**

The best thing that he had ever done was to convince Lola Parker to move in with him. She had been a little reluctant at first, used to her own space and her own rules but he persuaded and he cajoled and finally he convinced her that she couldn't live without him. And that was the truth; she couldn't and he couldn't and wouldn't live without her either. The strength of the feelings he had for her frightened him sometimes, that he could feel this powerfully for her. He had never felt like this before in his entire life but the moment he had seen her, that had been it, he had fallen and he had fallen hard. Fortunately for him it was reciprocated. Their feelings had been intense, passionate and very, very mutual.

Bobby had never shared anything with anyone before. His job in Narcotics could be solitary. If he was working on a case then that was how he preferred it. Lola was a detective in Homicide. If she allowed him to, then his worries about her being on the job would've overwhelmed them both; as it was, privately he worried all the same. She told him that she could take care of herself, and she was right, she could. But he wouldn't be Bobby if he didn't worry even just a little bit.

They slotted together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He got used to seeing her stuff with his in the bathroom, her clothes jostling for space with his and her shoes lined up beside his. She got used to his books, his distractions and his periods of quiet reflection when working on a case.

He didn't think he would be so lucky to have her in his life. He loved her entirely and without reservation. He revelled in the emotion and embraced it wholeheartedly for the first time in his life. He loved to spend time with her, those golden times where all they wanted or needed was the company of each other. In the summer months they spent time in the park, sprawled out on a blanket, enjoying the warmth and they could talk for hours. Conversations would fade away and they would stare into each other's eyes until one or both of them would begin to laugh. The outside world didn't exist for them then.

He met her parents and he'd been genuinely worried that they wouldn't like him, that they would find him too quirky, too old or just plain too odd for their only child but that didn't seem to be the case. They got on almost immediately and later on Bobby told Lola that she had inherited her personality from two special people. It had been with some trepidation that he took her with him one Sunday to Carmel Ridge to meet his mother. He had never brought anyone with him before and even though he had told her that he was bringing someone special with him during their daily telephone calls, he had no idea of how she would react to Lola or indeed how Lola would react on meeting his mother.

Initially his mom had been cool and cautious and Lola had been unfailingly pleasant and polite but as the afternoon had gone on, a definite thaw set in and by the time visiting was over, she was asking him to bring her again. He had relaxed marginally; it would seem that mom approved.

* * *

There were scarier times of course. One time an arrest went bad and Bobby had had to contort himself to avoid a knife in the ribs, which hadn't been easy for a guy on the plus side of six feet. His colleagues had seen the amount of blood and panicked and he'd been whisked off to St Vincent's for treatment. He received a dozen stitches for a slash wound across his ribs that bled like a son of a bitch. Lola had rushed in after hearing about it from his Captain and had gone seven shades of white when she'd seen him sitting on the side of the gurney in the trauma room. His t-shirt had been cut off him and it was in a blood soaked puddle on the floor. A nurse had been in the process of bandaging him up. He'd gone home in a green scrub top and he'd been in pain for a few days afterwards.

He remembered visiting her in her squad room in a bid to convince her to grab some lunch with him. He had decided that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He saw her emerge from an interrogation room and she smiled at him. He walked towards her and it was then that the suspect she'd been questioning came out of the interrogation room. He broke free of his escorts and charged towards her, grabbing her around her neck. It had taken Bobby and three other detectives to tear him away from her and Lola had had bruises on her throat for weeks afterwards. It was still hard for him to remember it and not want to indulge in a homicidal rage on the guy even now.

She was his beautiful girl; tall with legs that went on forever and light blonde hair that tumbled to her shoulders. Any opportunity that he got, if her hair was pinned up, then he'd steal the pins and her entreaties for him to return them would often result in them tumbling back into bed and staying there. She often threatened to cut her hair and spoil his fun but he always convinced her not to. He loved her hair. He loved her.

They celebrated their one-year anniversary with a weekend in a B&B by the coast. They would sightsee through the day, walk hand in hand along the beach and stand by the shore and watch the waves rush to meet them. The nights belonged to them and Bobby realised that if he lived to be a hundred and fifty, he would never get enough of her.

Sometimes their jobs got in the way and when they did, they were like ships passing in the night. Crazy hours meant that they saw each other as one was coming in from work and the other was heading out. There were times when Bobby would be undercover and she wouldn't see him for days on end. There were times when he would get off a job and it would be the middle of the night by the time he got back to their apartment. Lola would be fast asleep in their bed; the comforter pulled up almost over her head and all he would see was her hair. He'd shower; drag on a pair of boxers and slip into bed behind her. She'd turn and snuggle into him and he'd wrap his arms around her and feel her warmth seep through his skin and he'd gently inhale her scent and a sense of peace would overtake him and guide him into sleep.

* * *

If he had to be honest, then maybe the signs had been there for a while. She tired easily, slept for longer and inexplicable bruises would mark her skin and she'd have no idea where she got them and just put them down to the stress of the job.

One of Lola's colleagues called him and told him that Lola had collapsed. He'd been on a stakeout when the call came in and he'd left the scene immediately. She'd collapsed in the squad room and was whisked to St Vincent's when she didn't begin to recover immediately. How he had gotten to the hospital in one piece was a mystery in itself.

She had looked so pale and fragile lying in that hospital bed. He had stood in the doorway and just looked at her and his heart had begun to throb in his chest. He'd gone to her bedside and sank down onto the seat before his legs gave out from under him. A deep fear took root then, that something could be seriously wrong. Then denial had immediately kicked in, she couldn't be _that_ sick, she was young; there was no _way_ she'd be that ill. By the time a doctor had come in, he'd convinced himself that she had a bad dose of the 'flu. In his head he was making plans to take some time off to take care of her. Then he saw the grave expressions on their faces. Oh yeah, as well as the ER doctor, another one accompanied him, an Oncologist. And that's when it began.

Bobby watched Lola as the doctors delivered the devastating news that she had acute lymphocytic leukaemia. It was an aggressive cancer of the blood that needed urgent treatment. She needed further tests to make sure that it hadn't spread and it was likely that she would need chemotherapy. He stayed with her whilst they'd run their further tests. He'd seen the disbelief in her eyes, along with the fear and he decided there and then that he'd be there for her, every single step of the way, no matter what.

Of course Lola made it difficult; she could be as awkward as she wanted to be and she tested him to the limits. She withdrew, she told him to leave her, that she was no good to him like this and would most likely end up dead inside of a year anyway. She would taunt him and deride him and poke at his insecurities and fears until they were both on the absolute edge, close to tears and choked up with fear and devastation. When Lola finally realised that Bobby wasn't going anywhere, then she let him in.

He found it hard to concentrate at work as well as take care of Lola but somehow he managed it. He found the time to take her to the hospital for her chemo sessions, he stayed with her and held her hand and talked to her as the nurses prepared her and she was poked and prodded with the needles that would deliver the poison that he hoped would cure her. He held her in his arms after a bout of throwing up left her so weak that she literally couldn't sit up. He carried her to bed and gently laid her on the mattress and he would watch her sleep, lying on the blanket beside her. She lost weight, became pale and haunted with sickness and she lost her beautiful hair. He endeavoured to buy her the prettiest of silk headscarves, the most colourful of hats to cover her newly bald head. He did his best to bolster her destroyed self-esteem and he even proposed to her, told her that he wanted her to be his wife. Her eyes had widened at the proposal and she'd laughed and told him that she would marry him the day that she was finally and completely cured. He told her that he would hold her to that and he bought her a silver ring with a crystal stone and slipped it onto her engagement finger and told her it was a promise ring. She had laughed again but she didn't take it off.

Then a miracle occurred and Lola went into remission. They celebrated with expensive champagne and again Bobby asked her to marry him. She told him that she would marry him when she got the all clear. He had told her that it didn't matter to him, that he loved her unconditionally but she'd been determined.

The future began to look infinitely rosier and Bobby felt some of his equilibrium begin to return. They had beaten the disease; it was all in the past now and one day it would be a horrible memory. Lola's hair began to grow back, light blonde as it had been but with a curl in it that hadn't previously existed. She got colour back in her cheeks and a sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes of hers. She began to talk about returning to work.

Of course it didn't last. Bobby didn't think they'd really be that lucky and beat the cancer completely. That fear nagged at the back of his mind in the darkest hours. Lola slept in his arms and he would stare blindly into the darkness and be hostage to the numbing terror that occupied his thoughts, the fear that Lola would ultimately leave him.

The sick sense of dread intensified when the headaches began. At first Lola tried to tell him it was down to stress but they were incapacitating and they both knew but were afraid to voice their fears as they went back to the hospital for tests. They tried to remain optimistic but it was no good. It was back and it was in her brain and this time there was nothing more that could be done. By the doctor's calculations, Lola Parker had months.

The light began to go out of her then and it broke his heart. He was scrambling madly to keep a tight hold of his careering emotions. Little by little his worst nightmare was coming true, that she was slipping away from him and he couldn't, no he _wouldn't_ let her see how it affected him. Her parents travelled into the city to take care of her through the day when he had to go into work. He would relieve them in the evening and take care of her through the night until he became too exhausted and was told to take compassionate leave. There was nothing compassionate about what they were going through. He helped to administer her medication, massaged her legs and her feet and held her in his arms and wished that he could make her well again. He saw shadows darken her eyes as her sight began to fail and her skin turned waxen pale as the weight melted from her bones. Cold rage possessed him that she was fading away before his eyes while he remained as healthy and strong as he always had. If he could he'd change places with her in a heartbeat.

He explained to his mother in regular phone calls why he couldn't make it to Carmel Ridge as often as he used to. And his mother, despite her own problems, tried to understand why and tried to sympathise in her own way. He felt his own pain clawing at his insides and he wished that he could talk to her about how he felt. In that respect he felt alone; he couldn't talk about it. He had to hold onto it and be strong for Lola. She needed him to be strong.

Eventually she was moved into hospice care. Bobby hadn't wanted it but her parents had been insistent; they told him that taking care of her as relentlessly as he did was too much for him and he needed a break, he needed to sleep some time. They would be there for her when he wasn't. Needless to say he made sure that she had every comfort, every necessity that she could possibly need.

In a whispered conversation, Lola told him of her last request. She wanted to marry him. It had almost broken his heart to hear her ask for this simple thing. So he and her nurses began to prepare and organise a ceremony. In his heart of hearts he wanted it to be legal and binding, that she would in the eyes of the law die as Lola Parker-Goren but her doctor took him to one side and informed him that she wouldn't live long enough to see that happen so a blessing was planned instead.

He accompanied Laura Parker to a women's clothing store and together they chose a simple white lace long dress. Laura had gotten tearful then and Bobby had comforted her while holding onto his own tears. Then Laura told him that he had been the best thing to happen to their daughter. They were glad that she had found love with him. He told her that he was honoured to have her in his life.

Lola had looked beautiful in her dress, exactly how he pictured her. He watched her as she stroked the material and smiled. The hospice chaplain conducted the brief ceremony and Bobby slipped a gold ring onto her finger beside the crystal promise ring that she'd never taken off. The nurses had provided pale pink and white balloons, a cake and some champagne. Bobby had sat beside Lola on the bed and periodically she lifted a thin hand to touch her face. She could only see shadows now. Her fingertips brushed against his jaw, feeling the stubble that he hadn't gotten around to shaving off. He would capture her hand and kiss her fingertips and tell her that he loved her.

It was some hours later, after photographs had been taken, that Lola began to fade away. Her morphine levels were increased and she slipped in and out of consciousness. When she surfaced, she was a little confused about what was happening or even of who he was. Bobby stayed with her and watched her. He held her hand and stroked her thin blonde hair. He lay on the bed beside her so that they were face to face and he would whisper to her, hoping that she could hear him. He whispered to her of how much he loved her, and how much she meant to him. He thanked her for coming into his life, for making it a better place for him and for showing him what love was truly all about. He also told her that he would love her forever and one day he would see her again. He still lay with her, snuggled in his arms as she took her final breath and slipped away from him.

He lay like that for a long time, still stroking her hair, still holding her but unwilling to let go. Instead silent tears streamed out of his eyes and dampened her hair. Finally he let go of her. Finally he said goodbye.

* * *

He felt as though he was completely encased in ice.

News of Lola's passing spread and days went by when the apartment was filled with people all wanting to pay their respects and offer condolences. He heard them, he just couldn't respond. All he wanted was Lola to walk into the room and take him in her arms and tell him that he'd had an appallingly bad dream instead. He kept expecting to see her and was devastated all over again when she wasn't where he'd hoped she'd be.

The first few nights were nightmarish for Bobby. He found it difficult to sleep alone. He could smell her perfume on the sheets and instead he took to sleeping on the sofa. He wandered around their apartment and there were times where he'd convinced himself that she was at work and would be back soon.

He couldn't help but wonder what he was doing there, standing beside her grave like he was. He was trying not to feel as though his entire world was collapsing around him. The suit that he wore felt wrong, the black tie close to strangling him. She was probably watching him and laughing at him for wearing a suit. The only time that he ever did was when he was in court testifying for a case.

He stood beside her parents and watched his fellow police officers, clad in their dress blues, bear her coffin to the graveside and he knew that he should be a part of that, mourning her as they mourned her. It was all that he could do just to stand here and be part of this or at least be a physical presence to it all. He just ached for her period. He watched with dry empty eyes as she was honoured, the flag that was draped over her coffin was symbolically folded and presented to him. He accepted it as was expected of him but immediately he gave it to her mother, folding his arms tightly afterwards. He wanted it to be over. He didn't want to be the object of everyone's pity, if he heard one more word of condolence, he was going to do some serious damage to something or someone. He didn't want condolence, he wanted Lola back. He wanted her right beside him, her hand in his, warm and healthy and pink. He blinked as he felt his rigid self-control begin to slide. He took a deep breath and dropped his arms down by his side. He started when he felt a hand touch his right arm and he turned his head suddenly and saw Laura regarding him, her blue eyes soft with sympathy and understanding. Her hand slipped down and took his and he let her. It was a connection, however tenable.

The wake itself was torture. Bobby nursed a drink and kept himself separate. He sat on the steps outside of where the event was being held and watched life go by. Out here in the warm sunshine, no one knew who he was, what he'd gone through or that he'd lost the love of his life. He turned his head when a shadow dropped over him and saw a fellow officer, just fresh out of the academy judging by how old she looked. He took in her neat red gold hair; her sympathetic brown eyes and he wanted to tell her to go away. She asked if she could sit with him and to his surprise he found himself nodding and she dropped down on the stone step beside him and placed her hat down beside her. No conversation ensued which had taken him by surprise. No, she just sat there beside him and like him, watched the life going on in front of her. They stayed like that for maybe half an hour before she got to her feet, offered him her sincere condolences and left.

He said goodbye to her parents and promised that he would stay in touch. And he knew that he would at least try.

* * *

After that Bobby slid into the darkest of depressions. It enveloped him like a thick overwhelming blanket and painted everything around him accordingly. There were days where he just stayed in bed and waited for the day to be over with. He visited his mom and listened to her berate him for letting him get this way. She wanted to know whether he intended to join Lola, because the way he was acting, he wouldn't be far behind her. He just didn't care any more, maybe he was just counting the days. She filled his every thought, his every waking moment.

His Captain paid him an informal visit. This time he didn't offer his sympathies. He brought Lola's personal possessions from her locker at work and came to discuss a possible date for him to return to work. To be honest, the thought hadn't crossed his mind and he felt that he wasn't ready yet but he told his Captain that it would be soon.

He'd looked in the box that held her stuff from her locker. Toiletries, a hairbrush, some make up and photographs. He looked at them. They were of him. The final one was of them together taken before she was sick. He felt tears well up and slip down his cheeks. He dropped the pictures back into the box and brutally wiped his face.

The Captain got a phone call a few days later. One of his detectives was dead drunk in O'Malley's bar and could he please collect him. The detective's name was Goren. Normally the Captain would be pissed at being called out, but the owner of the bar had done him and his squad a few favours in the past and because it was Goren, and what he'd gone through, then he made an exception.

He'd found his detective sprawled out over a table, for all intents and purposes looking like he was sleeping one off. The Captain sat beside him and just watched him for a moment before giving him a sharp nudge. Goren moved but didn't open his eyes and the smell of liquor coming off him made his eyes water. He'd wondered how long it would take him to get to this point. It had taken him quicker than he'd expected.

A couple of the bar's patrons helped him get Goren into a cab and the Captain directed the driver to take them both to his house. To go back to his apartment and his memories right now didn't seem to be the best of ideas. It wouldn't hurt for the man to spend a day or so with him and his family. He knew his wife would understand, it wasn't the first time he'd pulled one of his men back from the brink of complete self-destruction.

Goren was beginning to come around when the cab pulled up outside of the house. The Captain paid the driver and after a brief struggle, dragged Goren out with him. He looped his arm around his neck and staggered slightly beneath the bigger man's superior weight. Then he half dragged, half staggered him into his house.

The shower was freezing cold and the Captain held him brutally under it and watched Goren cough and splutter and tell him that he was okay. He kept him under the blast of water a couple of minutes longer just to be sure. Finally he allowed him out and the soaked, shivering detective sent him a confused look, as his wife appeared carrying towels and pyjamas and a robe. He would be staying the night, she informed him and he was in no condition to argue with her. The Captain waited outside as Goren stripped out of his wet clothes and changed. A couple of minutes later he emerged, carrying his wet clothes, which the Captain took from him. Together they walked down to the kitchen. The aroma of coffee filled the air. The Captain directed him to the table as he went to put his clothes into the dryer.

Goren mumbled his thanks as a cup of hot black coffee was placed down in front of him. He took a sip, wincing slightly at the hot bitterness but it warmed him through. He lifted his head as his Captain came in.

His senior officer saw his vulnerability. This was Goren at his most raw, his most susceptible. He'd hit a wall and had hit it hard. He sat down opposite him and just watched him drink his coffee. The effects of the alcohol were wearing off and Goren was shaking slightly, his long fingers tightening around the mug as if to give him some kind of balance.

He began to apologise, his expression awkward, the tone shaky and his Captain shook his head and told him that no explanation was necessary. Goren had looked at him, confusion clouding his dark brown eyes and it was then the Captain confided in him that he too had lost someone he'd loved deeply and had married. He'd been a rookie fresh out of the academy when his wife of barely a year had lost her life in a bank robbery. She'd been an innocent bystander and eight weeks pregnant. He had almost lost his mind with grief and it had taken a year before he felt able to return to work and he had with the help of his captain. And two years after that he met the woman who became his second wife, the mother of his four children. He hadn't been looking but there she was. Bobby listened respectfully but he knew that he'd never find love again; no one could or would replace his Lola. It was safer that he remained alone.

He stayed with them overnight and left under his own steam with a nagging hangover headache the following morning.

* * *

A month later Robert Goren returned to work. It felt weird walking into the familiar precinct. He still felt vulnerable and disjointed. Lola should've been upstairs, working a case, interrogating a witness or sneaking a coffee break with him. It felt awkward being there in Narcotics with his colleagues watching his every move. He didn't know what they expected him to do. Have a very public meltdown? Well who knew these days, it could still very well happen. He quickly got the impression that his colleagues were expecting that to happen. Six months passed before he realised that he'd lost his passion for the squad and he requested a transfer.

A few departments fought over him. Vice, Homicide, Major Case, they all wanted him. He chose Major Case and walked into the bullpen on his first day holding a strong cup of coffee, dressed in a conservative dark blue suit, his heart pounding in his chest.

He put his everything into the job. Colleagues found him abrasive, cold, even aloof but he polished his perfectionism, made sure that he came out of an interrogation room with a conviction. He enjoyed getting into the heads of the perps, finding out what made them tick. He liked to gently poke and prod them and ultimately discover their potential triggers and he revelled in the satisfaction that a confession did bring.

He also had a knack of losing partners. He didn't care; he was there to work and not to make friends. He was famously close-lipped about his personal life and he gave no thought or inclination that he cared what anyone else thought.

Alexandra Eames was fresh out of Vice and looking for a career change. Captain Deakins paired her with Goren, hoping that this would be the partnership that would work. He'd lost count of how many partners Goren had gone through during his current tenure. They barely lasted a week, two was encouraging but none of them had gone past a month.

He quickly got to realise that for all their personality differences, they worked. Eames got the big detective, was quick and intuitive and a friendship of sorts sprung up between them. Goren was still so close mouthed about his private life, the squad only knew what he wanted them to know but Deakins knew Goren had suffered a great tragedy in his life. His previous Captain hadn't embellished on the details but had told his colleague that Goren had come perilously close to losing it. He needed a firm but supportive hand but he was worth the risk. As the solve rate of the department began to improve, Deakins felt he had to agree with him, he _was_ worth the risk.

Close to six years passed with them working together. Then his mother got sick and when the doctor told him that it was lymphoma, his heart became cold. He felt anger then surge through him that this damned disease would strike at his centre again, and take away someone else that he loved. He felt the familiar feeling of helplessness and was a bystander to his mother's pain and increasing bewilderment. And all he could do was ask _why? _Why did this have to happen to him again?

As the cancer ravaged through his mother's body, immune it seemed, to the treatments she endured, he began to feel a kind of panic rise within him. He'd taken care of his mother for so long, it felt like forever and probably was pretty close to that, because he couldn't remember a time that he _didn't_ take care of her. He'd be essentially alone. His brother drifted in and out of his life when it suited him and the emotional support he offered was negligible to say the least. The last time he saw him was when Frank enquired about his mother's money and he was reminded again with startling clarity that Frank Goren didn't care about anyone but himself. And his mother was blind to that fact.

Then, during an investigation, a bombshell was dropped that shattered Bobby's carefully ordered, numbed little world. His father, or whom he had always thought to be his father, may not have been after all. His mother was never sure and she would leave him with this minefield to obsess over. The man who could be his father was a convicted serial killer. That revelation alone made Bobby sick to his stomach. It made him wish for Lola, wish that she was right with him now, holding his hand and telling him that it wasn't important. She would've known what to say. As it was, he visited her grave as regularly as he could and stared at the marker but the words wouldn't come.

It was Bobby alone and not Frank who had sat by his mother's bedside and held her hand as the cancer claimed her as another victim. Frank was nowhere to be seen. He didn't show up for the small funeral and Bobby guessed because there wasn't anything worth inheriting, it hadn't been worth his while to show up and pay his respects. After the service and the burial, he walked over to Lola's grave and knelt down in front of the grey marble marker and allowed his grief to finally come through.

He found his brother drunk in O'Malley's. It was a sharp reminder to him that the last time he had been here, he'd been passed out drunk too. Frank hadn't passed out, but he was very unsteady on his feet and Bobby felt the rage suddenly explode from him. He'd grabbed his brother by the front of his threadbare jacket and hauled him none too gently outside of the bar and up an alley. He'd slammed him up against the brick wall and almost reeled back from the smell of the alcohol on his breath. He took a good look at him, and saw how his own life could've turned out if he'd let it. A nobody, a drunk, someone living for the next party, the next good time. His father had always resented the fact that he was a nobody, that he had never achieved anything more than the next bet on a horse, the next round at a bar or that he felt that the world owed him a living. Bobby let go of Frank then and watched him slide to the ground. His mother had all but venerated her eldest child and for what? Frank had never gotten the breaks? Frank had never done anything worthwhile to achieve them. He told his brother that he never wanted to see him again. They were done this time and this time he meant it.

It was Eames who came by his apartment a few days later when he didn't show up for work. She found the photos of Lola, as he knew that she would. And he told her the whole story. She accepted a beer from him and she'd listened. That's when he realised that with her he'd found a true friend, a partner in every sense of the word. And slowly he began to find some peace.

**FIN.**


End file.
